


Spell Me

by meiqis



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One-Sided Attraction, Valentine's Day, mention of Yanren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17876960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiqis/pseuds/meiqis
Summary: When Yanjun asks Zhengting for help about a Valentine's confession, the latter is utterly unable to refuse. Were it not for the slight complication of his own crush onto the other that might as well stand for a ride into his own demise.





	Spell Me

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this anon](https://curiouscat.me/dadting/post/552092375) that I had around for eternity and wanted to write for nearly as long. But the plot seemed to be above me and yet it was just utterly perfect for Valentine's! Although I'm late... I wanted to get this out ON the 14th but then I had travel plannings to do and my vacation was so tiring... so now it's belatedly done.  
> Also lowkey dedicating this to Gems because she (as always) aided me in this and also because I met her some days ago, not to mention we all know she's my second brain so... 
> 
> I may point I adjusted my writing style slightly so if this isn't as smoothly gliding as always, I will apologize in advance!  
> PS: for once, this title has no specific meaning nor relation to the story - fun facts and jazz hands

It was like a reflex, attraction of magnets, some sort of gravity, like a planet pulled into a black hole’s empty space, a survival instinct that brought nothing but doom as his eyes left the schedule he had been working on to replace his field of vision with the very presence of their student council president, perfectly golden skin looking all the more sun kissed as the winter sun hit it, caressed it, a gentle touch and tender peck and it had a hundred butterflies set free within his body, fluttering around his insides and infecting even his heart, turning the little organ into a hummingbird’s wings, because, of course, the sight of his long since crush just had to make him a useless mess day by day.  
At least this time around there was no Justin or Chengcheng could slap his arm or reprimand him the way they would do in the cafeteria, in their free time, whenever the high school’s student council was meeting up with the combined middle school’s one, and that made it all the easier for him to just look, keep on looking as Yanjun was still talking cheerfully with Zhangjing, maybe making one of those lame jokes again, the kind that had their oldest member give up on all mental abilities for the moment because that was what happened whenever one who wasn’t dumbly infatuated as Zhengting or one of dozens of admirers were listening to them.  
“He’s received another one, you know,” a voice next to him gently pointed out, a can of cherry soda placed in front of him, and all his relief of not having been caught was dissolving into the black smoke of one of the cigarettes he had once caught their unruly president smoking in the backyard, it had been one of those moments that had him wondering how someone could be doing so much for their school, how so much effort could be put into it, and yet there was a near shameless breaking of rules, a gap charm, intriguing, fascinating, never boring, and for such reason he had not reported one thing and just sat down, planted his butt on the moist stones of the garden wall and stared down at the grovel at his feet, avoiding looking at his supposed friend because it would only set his heart into his frenzy all over again. In retrospect, it had still been one of the most beautiful moments of his life, the lingering scent of rain having hit the greens, the approaching warmth of the spring sun smiling onto their beings, the soft voice lulling his thoughts into a slow state of relaxation, distracted by the warmth of a knee digging into his thigh, and it all had him spent those moments of a cigarette burning to its butt in a beautiful mixture of bliss and wanting for his heart to give out.  
“Another one of those letters,” Xukun supplied again, chair screeching on the ground as it was dragged forth some inches and it still was not enough to distract him from the sight of his crush as he reached for the can, little blood pumping organ squeezing painfully within his chest because he was already aware what this was about, he had been around as it happened, as one of those countless admirers had handed over a pink letter with white flowers, maybe hoping for a lack of rejection for it had been in public, during lunch hour, but it had followed nonetheless. At least a temporary one, but even that kind of reassurance was better than seeing the one he wanted most taken by someone else, he assumed, at least those last months before graduation he wanted to spend without having his heart broken, he could deal with even his heart’s wants being only temporary later, when they had to be apart anyways, when the older might go back to Taiwan after all, when it might be a university so far away, out of his reach. Then he would be able to deal with it.  
There was little more he could do than give a gentle smile to the younger by his side, the one who might just be their next president in less than a year’s time, depending on votes of students, on their own considerations, he wanted to leave such matters to Ziyi, actually, because he was certain he’d still be busy mending his poor self at such time while still being too reluctant to let go of the council that had him messing up more often than not, something he faulted his brain with but was aware his own distraction was in charge of. “I was there, you know? Even though you ditched us.” His face was decorated by a silver smile, the least he could do when a gentle knock at the front and their last member, Ziyi, entering officially commenced the beginning of their meeting, no matter how short or irrelevant it might be.  
It was some sort of unspoken rule, to not mention anything private until all their points for the day had been ticked off their list, this time around those were matters concerning the Gaokao examinations or the spring festival, Valentine’s day so conveniently skipped year by year due to its proximity to the Lunar New Year, it gave them a breather, not having to prepare anything in between was a relief, or at least he had thought so. Their usual mannerism of just skipping over it was interrupted this time around, as it was their president himself to suggest a simple act, an easy idea of just providing packed chocolates or roses or heart-shaped papers for those who wanted to confess, now that they had some money left over from their autumn activities.It had him feeling as if he were the only one who was shocked at that, sputtering into his cherry soda in surprise and the sugary liquid dripping down his chin as he stared at their leader, catching Zhangjing’s somewhat startled gaze and Ziyi kindly reaching him a tissue regardless, while Xukun and Yanjun both seemed to raise an eyebrow at him, the latter of the two looking awfully charming even while ruining his day, brazenly, shamelessly so. “Is there a problem with it?”  
“N-no,” he muttered, frowning lightly as he tried to get his act back together and to retrieve his straight, maybe the only thing straight about him aside from his splits, thinking, eventually he decided to just sink back into his chair with a sigh and pointed out, “but there’s only two weeks left so we’re somewhat short on time, and our school is still somewhat conservative so I think they’d rather have us celebrating Qixi than Valentine’s, too. Not to mention I don’t know where to get any of these things…”  
“I already talked to Linkai earlier today. Your kids have something planned for the day so they offered to order some more stuff in for us.” To Zhengting, the older might as well have asked, “Any more objections?” and considering he didn’t have any, he could only grate his teeth and wait for the final conduct that was to finish their meeting before he could return to his earlier task of organizing their schedule, now having to start from the beginning as he marked down that lovers day on top. It took time, more so than he had initially thought, because the next time someone sat down next to him, he had to realize he was alone with his suffering crush currently leaning his upper body onto the now shared table, had him closing his pen cap and closing their shared planner for the time being. “You weren’t a fan of my suggestion earlier. I doubt it’s because someone could break your heart when you’re the one who keeps doing so.”  
Because the one I want to confess to is out of my reach, he thought to himself, smiling wryly, the idea of a whole day spent for the means of confessing was insufferable when he couldn’t even do so on his own, not because he was too shy to do so, he had the confidence to go for what he wanted, but there were exceptions to every rule and the very thought of that this would be meant to end, that Yanjun would turn it down and even their feeble friendship would end, that Yanjun might be gone within a few months time, it had his body tensing up more than he wanted it to, so it wasn’t because of lacking confidence that he had never done it, it had been out of fear of losing it all, of cutting and snapping all those strings spun between the two of them. “I’m not breaking hearts. Wouldn’t want to steal your job, right?”  
“You are though,” the older denied, surprising him and catching his interest as he slightly raised one eyebrow at his neighbor, encouraging him to go on. “People always look after you. The day you had to dress up as a girl because of that bet even the guys from basketball pointed out they’d wish for a girlfriend as pretty as you. You’re just too noble for normal humans to reach out to.”  
The situation had him squirming, feeling uncomfortable with the situation because the mere fact his crush of nearly two years was pointing out such specific facts was… unsettling. He couldn’t filter why he would receive such amount of attention, why it was specifically pointed out, why Yanjun paid attention if it wasn’t actually of interest to the older and if merely for the reason that he knew himself there was no need to pay attention unless it was of matter to themselves, he knew because he had experienced already the same. Back in middle school, when he had crushed on Yanchen and that bright smile and taken note of any possible love rival, finding it within one of his own so-called “kids”, the ones he took care of, and then the other end of the spectrum, as he had gotten closer to Xukun as their new council members, aware of the younger’s intellect but never had he noticed the popularity surrounding their little prodigy, not until it had been pointed out of him.  
For exactly that reason, this little sliver of hope, he felt even worse, knowing he was putting too much worth into these words would only be his own downfall, he didn’t want to hope for anything when, for all he knew, it was hopeless even just based on the other’s sexual preferences, hoping would only send him falling further and into the wrong kind of loop to be aiming for. And it seemed he was proven right, Chinese folk was said to be superstitious and now he couldn’t help but wonder whether his own thoughts had manipulated the outcome, whether the next few minutes would have developed differently if he hadn’t jinxed it on his own.  
“Ziyi told me you had a crush during the last game,” the older went on, an attack to his own heart, sending his mind into a frenzy because his best friend would know, the very aim of his hopeless feelings, and usually the same aged council member was good at keeping his mouth shut, way better than his kids, but everyone had their slip-ups and those he was afraid of. Now this one might have resulted in his sweaty palms and trembling knee, anxious for the next thing to come. “I have one too.” This was worse, way worse, he decided, clawing his fingers into the worn out fabric of his uniform pants. “So I wanted to ask for your help in confessing at Valentine’s.”

The silence sitting at his back was pressing, he knew he could only wait for the reaction to come but that took time, a suffocating one, with each tick of the clock hung upon the wall sounding even louder in deafening hush. Only other interruptions came from the scratching of his pen against the paper or the rustling of pages from behind him, where the youngest of his alleged children had comfortable spread across his bed as if it were a couch in a community hall, reading whatever, and those were the only sounds ever since he had told his visitor for the night just what had taken place in the student council room this afternoon.  
“You’re a dumbass,” Justin eventually announced, followed by the rustling of the magazine being put down upon his comforter, but his only response was a tired hum as he kept scribbling onto his sheets, writing little notes of literature he had needed to read for class. “Let’s do this again. So he told you Ziyi mentioned you having a crush?”  
Softly he turned a page on his material, letting out a low noise of agreement again, another sound that drowned the noise of his clock and was silenced once again by fabric moving against fabric behind. “And then he said he has one too?” Again, he only made some sound Justin must already be used to for untroubledly going on with that little questionnaire, “And you agreed to playing cupid for him?”  
For a second, he contemplated whether to just let this fade out with his lack of responses or to whine about his own stupidity some more, finding the latter more appealing so he dropped his pen and turned around in his chair - he was someone certain the younger muttered something about finally this act of studying stopping - to look at said blond pensively. But before he could even manage to say anything, he was already bombarded again, “In conclusion, you’re a dumbass.”  
“So what?” He grumbled, sulking, because he was quite aware that the other was right, that it was his own mistake and basically a welcome to heartbreak into his house, merely for no sane person would aid their own crush in pursuing their love. What a relief that no person in love had ever been considered sane. “It’s called being strategic.”  
He should have expected it, the derogatory huff that might as well be the alternative to calling him a dumbass again. “‘Strategic’? Because you can find out what he treasures in that other person or what he likes and then delude yourself into thinking those are dates while actually you’re only dropping yourself into your own doom?”  
Maybe he should have asked someone dumber for advice, or at least someone he hadn’t babysat ever since he had been a teenager because young Minghao and anyone else had been way less good at reading his intentions or ideas. Now he felt stripped bare in front of his closest friend, his heart and thoughts presented on a silver tablet as if to satisfy a hungry demon, and god forbid, Justin was a little demon, spawn of hell, those experiences in laser tag and this one’s suicidal tendencies were proof enough of such matter. Chengcheng might have been an option? No, then all of it would’ve been spilled within forty-eight hours or less. Wenjun might have been a nice alternative but he was certain the underclassman had way too little experience with his focus on playing yo-yo and singing in the shower alone.  
There was no way to continue their conversation as the door fell upon, his older sister loud and energetic as she yelled, “Puppy master! Oh, hi Justin! Dad’s done cooking, come down already,” and was gone again, making him wonder just how someone who had supposedly all that many classes in university was still able to exude such a high activity level. Somehow he supposed it was inherited from his mother and grandmother, even their oldest female family member was a spark of energy at seventy plus years old.  
One look at his guest, though, might as well be sufficient in chasing him out of the room, spawn of hell, he was certain, because those eyes told him he wouldn’t be living it down, not like this, not anytime soon, and he might be met with empathy on Valentine’s but definitely also a lot of “I told you so”s, which truly wasn’t something to look forward to. Aware of that, he could only let out a little sigh before heaving himself out of the chair, the presence and accompanying mental pressure of Justin’s attendance at their dinner table and in the bathroom after, getting ready for bed, wasn’t something he could just ignore. On the bright side, the same topic wasn’t brought up again.  
At least not until, hours later, they were settled into his bed together, his dogs serving as a wall between them that worked quite well in keeping them up with demanding cuddles, licking fingers and cheeks and all. For a time it seemed to be alright to just continue like this, lazing around until sleep would lull them in, playing around with his pets, except it wasn’t, and Justin ran his mouth again, “Maybe it’s also for the better. Maybe you’ll see that you two won’t even fit and you can finally let go of that crush of yours and get yourself someone else. Ziyi is loaded, you know?”  
“You’re loaded too,” Zhengting grumbled in return, not to mention, “And he’s straight. Way too hetero to date.” He felt relieved, having made his best friend laugh and if just for a moment, but those words remained stuck in his mind, even when it was way past midnight and the younger long since asleep as he pondered those words still. Would it go away? Would he lose his fascination with the older if only they spent some more time together?  
In all honesty, he doubted it, he had experienced it over and over again, how even those little moments had made him only fall deeper, ever since he had entered high school and their tutoring model had started - a second year for every freshman, showing them around and serving as the person to turn to if they had any question, something about western concepts and university models and all that. He could still remember his surprise that day, having been met with a student looking so unruly, shirt buttons undone and tie left behind, it had itched him in the fingertips to take care of that and adjust all clothing again. Never would he have expected his partner to be current vice president of the student council, top student of the second year, because apparently they had been matched on their rankings and only he had not known.  
Back then, they had not talked much, top students didn’t actually have that many questions to ask, apparently, but he had already been smitten for honey skin and dimpled smiles and signed up for the student council without consideration. So maybe he hadn’t been the smartest, already then, despite his academic records saying something different, to enter some sort of club he didn’t even need nor have much time for, just because he had been crushing on someone he wasn’t even sure might be eligible to him, convincing himself just hearing a certain silky voice every odd day would be satisfactory enough.  
Dear, had he been wrong, ending up falling deeper and deeper, there had been no safety net, and every moment that wasn’t spent within this room with the other had only seemed to assure him of his own doom. “Maybe my ass…” He sighed, staring at the barely illuminated ceiling in hopes of finally being taken by sleep. 

“Uhm… excuse me?”  
It was less the sound of a stranger’s voice and more their presence that had him pulling out his earphones, one of them, to look up to the girl who had talked him up, tall, lean figure, bright eyes and a shy smile on her lips. She was cute, he assumed, the way a Golden Retriever would be, although she didn’t have the same kind of golden shade to her skin nor hair, was more of a Snow White kind of beauty and it took but a look at her fingers thrumming against her paper cup to already know what she wanted to ask.  
The smile he put on was effortless, blinking his eyes at her as he gently said, “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone,” and the mere surprise and flush on her face were enough to tell him that, yes, his assumption had been spot on. Either that or she had just needed the chair but even then, he would need that one soon anyways.  
Again, it took him a little while to notice she was still standing there, next to his table, and when he looked up again, she looked a bit more collected, nimble fingers placing the paper bag she held on his table. “I already bought this but I’m on a diet so… uhm… Please enjoy!” One last smile, directed at his now startled face, and then she was gone to where her friends were waiting, giving her encouraging smiles and a thumbs up and as he was still looking at her in stunned silence, he realized that, for one, she had been outstandingly nice about this, way more than some more, to say it nicely, cranky girls, hurt narcissism as they called him ugly and a jerk while turning around, regardless of still having been within earshot. For the other, she wore a school uniform he didn’t recognize, and he had been fairly certain he knew all of those within vicinity of their own, especially since those would be the ones he’d see at coffee shops and alike fairly often.  
His rejection, though, reminded him of just who he was waiting for, and as his heart fluttered and he imagined sharing sweets, he became aware of yet another thing - just how accurately right Justin had been. The thought of meeting Yanjun was already giving him the butterflies, his fantasies not unlike those of a real date and that, frankly, was delusional. He had spent all of his weekend since the confession studying and thinking about all the reasons why this was dumb and/or smart. The list of reasons for the latter had been achingly short with but one point to make it up. “Spend time with Yanjun” it had read and it had been a stark contrast compared to the other bullets of his makeshift list that evening, quickly hidden within the pages of his math book to be discarded for the sake of studying once again. As a means of procrastination, it had lead to his exhaustion, too, shades a bit more intense than he would like and hurting from the strain as he looked down at his papers once again.  
“Bullshit…” He muttered as he slammed his books shut, resting his elbows on the slightly emptier table now, palms still pressed into the sockets of his eyes. It was tempting to just drift off now, to just blur out the noises of chatters and chair screeches around him, of the roar of coffee machines and just get lulled in by the scent of the scent of the freshly brewed liquid. Apparently, he wasn’t as deserving of that.  
“Headache?” A now familiar voice asked, startling him enough to slip with one arm off the plate, sending his books flying and pens clattering to the ground, and each little noise felt like a punch to his guts that had him twitching in embarrassment. This moment he was even more unwilling to uncover his eyes to look at the one who had surprised him to the extent of only bringing shame upon his own clumsy self. What a relief the older had never once seen him stumble over his own two feet in the morning, hell, that would be awkward.  
Moments must have passed during which he just listened to the rustling of papers and weights dropped upon the furniture again, finished off with the zipping of his pencil case and he had to realize even more so that he was very rightly deserving of the heat in his ears, seeing how all had been cleaned up by the one opposite him. The excuse of a headache suddenly seemed very appealing. Too bad he was a horrible liar whenever it mattered most… “Just tired myself out lately,” he finally said silently, slipping a silent thanks as he took in his stuff and dumped it into his bag, a momentary distraction he was forced to regret a second later as he was faced with the sight of Yanjun holding the very list he had written recently.  
There was curiosity hidden in those menacing eyes, a light brown between the eyebrows covered by bangs, and it was an instinctual reaction to reach forward, to yank the traitorous paper slip out of stranger hands. He should have taken it out of his book again. “Sorry, that-”  
“Why’s it hopeless?” He was asked instead, referring to the bullets kept within his fingers, crumbled into a tiny ball and those words seemed to have released a spark of hope within him. Maybe he could use this situation- “I’m sure she would be overjoyed to receive your confession.”  
“It’s- Yeah, maybe,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting to break the delusional thought of him being in love with a girl, not that he never had, his first crush had been his sister’s best friend years prior, but it was in no way comparable to what he felt for the older on the other side of the table currently. Neither did he want to kind of come out of the closet now, Yanjun might be from Taiwan and there they might be more open but it had never been something they had discussed, not when their circle of shared friends was made up of a food lover, a straighter than straight gentleman and their youngest who seemed to hold back more than they’d like.  
“I like a boy,” the council president declared, in a way as relaxed as one might announce their favorite order of coffee or what they’d eat for dinner that day. It was a bomb dropped but without the detonator activated, it was just laying there, blinking and eventually to be covered in sand.  
He didn’t react to it, not obviously, but his heart did a leap and his ears heated up again, the thought of standing the slightest of chances now back within reach. If it weren’t for himself having allowed the assumption of his own sexuality slip. With a shake of his head he pushed it back and instead pulled out some loose note papers and prettily designer letters, placing them on the table between them, followed by a proper quill. “You said writing letters would be good for Valentine’s, no?” He answered without having been asked a question and even with just the slightest of acknowledgement from the older he was already patting his shoulder to have consulted some “Confessing for Dummies” book the evening before, simply because it had been taken in positively.  
From there it took little motivation from his side for Yanjun to go on, take notes on the loose sheets before working on the pretty letters and, therefore, offering him a perfect opportunity to just use the time to watch his opposite. He could understand where the people came from, calling their student council a “collection of pretty boys” when all of them had their own charms, great features, half of them with a better background, outstanding talents. Surely, there were also people outside the council who were worthy of admiration, Wenjun received his confessions on the regular, even though he ditched everyone for those yo-yos, or Yanchen, who they still thought was straight. The latter was actually funny to watch when the love doves were attached by the hip whenever possible and some girls still dared confess right in front of Zeren’s eyes. It was a spectacle to behold.  
Although in the end, he still considered Yanjun the most charming, with bright eyes and deep dimples and despite all those cold jokes that betrayed the hotness exuded. Once he had even been forced into watching Justin and his crush start a battle of horrible pick-up lines, making it all the more obvious why so many were head over heels with their alleged bad boy who wasn’t really bad at all. And yet, he couldn’t remember ever having been on the receiving end of those flirty speeches.  
His mood took one for the worse as he chewed on his straw, not only was he an apparent exception to the flirting behavior, he also hadn’t known the older could speak English until an older cousin, Yueyue, had appeared and they had talked mostly in the foreign language, neither had they worked well as tutor and tutored, nor had he known about that bunny, Bullfrog. It had him wondering just how many things he didn’t know that seemed to be only obvious to, maybe, everyone else.  
Too lost in thought, again, he didn’t realize the words directed at him immediately, too focused on those plush lips moving, rosy, glossy- Wait, they were moving! “...writing one too?”  
Slowly he blinked his eyes in return before a flush took over his face again, shaking his head lightly as immediate response. “I don’t plan on confessing,” he admitted, and even if he did, he didn’t think much of doing it with letters or alike. In the outstanding case of ever confessing to his one crush, he wanted to do it personally, and there seemed to be an underlying question but it never came, tasks of taking notes and phrasing words picked or just staring and admired picked up again in favor of the silence.  
Yanjun, he noticed, was making progress with his letter, notes cleanly taken and bullets transformed into a rough script, sheets sprawled out a bit but he didn’t mind, it was nice to watch how it all evolved, how slender fingers moved the pen around the white lines carefully, nearly artistically, hanji crossed out in favor of writing English words and phrases and it had him wondering just who would be on the receiving end. It was like a game of Bingo or Cluedo, getting his hints bit by bit and he had to make his deductions, already aware it was a boy, apparently understanding English. Now, that only left him with… maybe a million or more people to consider as rivals.  
This time around he was more focused, could clearly hear the next question that was asked with the last words written and had him lifting his eyes to that blindingly handsome face. “You wrote down you want to spend time with me on that paper. Why?”  
Now, maybe he wasn’t all that concentrated, he was quite certain his brain got fried right that instance and he could only bite his tongue in contemplation of what to answer best. But honesty prevailed, not? “It’s your last year here,” he muttered, playing with the paper sleeve of his cup, turning it around and around and around, never stopping because a circle didn’t have an end per se. And it was good distraction. More honest of an action than his words had been, even if they carried their own truth, too.  
“So you want to spend time with me? How cute,” the president announced with this unfairly charming smile of his, if Zhengting were a lawyer, he’d insist for it to become illegal, a weapon directed at the very core of his heart. With a startle, he realized it was the first time he was called anything remotely resembling flirty and as heat crept up his neck, he could do little more than lower his head in return, finding solace in the paper bag received by the girl before, ignoring the telephone number scribbled onto its back as he pulled out one cookie of two to nibble on slowly. 

Somehow and day by day, he had started marking the days in his filofax until it would hit Valentine’s, ending that so wonderful but entirely one-sided collaboration. There were eleven days to go, the student council driving him crazy with the sudden influx of confession suggestions and two more scheduled afternoons to be spent with Yanjun, the latter being what he looked forward to most, yet dreaded all the same time.  
It was driving him crazy, and he would admit to having become somewhat paranoid to always look out for the letter he had bought but his own crush had written, eager to find out who it was it was destined to be ending up with. Which also meant it was grating on his nerves more than he would like to confess to, stress nibbling a bar of chocolate from his stack in the locket becoming a more regular occurrence than he’d like.  
“Hey, bro.” And there his chocolate bar went flying while he released an awkward screech, only to, one second later, bend his waist and tilt past his locker door to glare at his same aged best friend. He liked to call himself a social butterfly, casually giving about each of his closest friends a title just to be able to reserve them a special place in the sugary depth of his heart. (Chengcheng tended to call it his being extra.) “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Is your chocolate okay?”  
With a sad look in his eyes he looked at the broken pieces down at his feet, from where it had first crashed into the metal door and then onto the ground and, no, he would not eat that anymore, rather preferred to reach into his treat joint to fish out another one. “Rest in pieces,” he directed at the allegedly dead one, simultaneously slamming his locker door shut to get a glimpse of the tallest of their bunch. “If you plan to kill me too, make it quick. I think I’ve already suffered a heart attack just now.”  
If Ziyi felt hurt by his insult, he didn’t show, only portrayed this obnoxiously sweet smile that had Zhengting already within two weeks of meeting admitting to the somewhat younger being perhaps a Prince Charming come to life. With some great background and unsurpassed manners, the looks and body, soft voice - totally a catch. Sometimes it backfired, though, and he would feel somewhat disgruntled by this “once a gentleman, always a gentleman” act because even Ziyi had to be grumpy from time to time. No? Apparantly - no. Which definitely didn’t do him well when it was still morning, his chocolate had gone to sweet treat heaven and his jealousy was still a little green monster hissing at him from the back of his mind.  
“I doubt you did,” his opposite said softly, always so softly, it would be way nicer if he were actually willing to get soothed by this kind of tone as he sometimes so easily was able to. Probably it was part of this whole Prince Charming thing, to actually have the male of a Snow White voice, luring in animals and making people happy, somewhat like that. “I actually came to ask you a favor.”  
Now, that was unusual, and silently he send his regards to heaven for no one annoying - read: his alleged children - being around who might actually tease him for getting asked for help from Superman himself. A tiny voice, quiet and timid, told him this whole Valentine’s ordeal didn’t do him well when he was already being mean to Ziyi even but another shut it down with an exclamation of there being a reason to being called a demon. Forcefully he ignored both and tried to smile encouragingly at the other walking next to him, without walking into a row of lockers for not looking, fortunately.  
“I heard you’re helping Yanjun in confessing.” Which, his thoughts substituted, wouldn’t have happened if his classmate hadn’t spilled his secrets. “So I also wanted to ask for your advice in confessing.”  
Backpedal - “What?” The surprise in his tone was real, no way would he have expected one of their school’s most popular bachelors to plan on confessing when literally every fifth girl within this institute was hell bent on doing just that in return. “You? Want to confess?” The repetition was deemed worthy, he figured, for it really was just that unexpected, nothing he could easily get his head around. “Why? Who? What?” Was his voice getting louder? He imagined it got louder.  
“I’ll tell you later, bro, just help me out.” And damn Ziyi and his puppy eyes, or the added swear on his words, because it had Zhengting fumbling with his bag and pulling out the very book he had skipped over to get advice on how to advise Yanjun, too. At least he already had a plan in his mind and written down his notes like the honor student he was supposed to be.  
The gesture was followed by a silent conversation, a slightly exasperated expression from the younger, a glare from him, then a smile and a bow and the other was off. As if they didn’t share their first class.  
But as he was strolling after his seat neighbor, he wondered once again whether he wasn’t left out and behind in more than just the literal sense, looking at that broad back hurrying down the hallway made him feel like he was just watching a metaphor taking place. Even Ziyi was taking off and leaving him behind, mentioning confessing with such security to his voice as if it weren’t the first time in four years he had ever seen this taken place. First Yanchen, now Ziyi, he was certain even Ruibin was already taken. Bit by bit all his friends from his year were pursuing their love while he, idiotic as he was, rather worked on helping his crush get their crush.  
It was pathetic, in more ways than just one, and for a moment it had him considering to break his promise to the older, to call this whole deal of helping out in planning the perfect love confession off. Though, it was indeed Yanjun’s last year, and there was no insurance for their meeting again after the last years graduating, evening it into his one last chance to properly spend time with the one he wanted to most. So maybe it was dumb, the thing he was doing, but didn’t movies preach that love was about wanting to see the other one happy, or about having to let go in order to achieve just that? Wasn’t there a spark of truth within such tales?  
Silently he also questioned just when he had moved on from a crush to comparing this to those real love deals in movies. Maybe this really didn’t do him good, after all… 

 

For a Saturday, he figured, it was way too early to be up, and yet there he was, roughly an hour after what was like the hellish crack of dawn, three coffees in his hand because he knew he’d need two of them, and leaning against a low wall while desperately trying not to doze off. It was a tough battle, though.  
One that was definitely and utterly worth it, though, he decided when he saw Yanjun approach, easy to spot not only because of model like features but also because hardly anyone sane would leave the train station at this time if not for an engagement like theirs. Without a word he handed over one of the coffee mugs, vaguely remembering the council president usually drank iced americano in summer but it wasn’t summer and cappuccino had seemed like a safe choice with a weather like this. The drink was taken with some words of gratitude, a morning greeting he could only grumble to in response but then again, it had been his own idea to meet at a time like this. No one to blame but himself.  
“Will you tell me where we’re going now?” The older asked quietly, voice rough from barely having been used so far and it sent shivers down his spine along with conjuring images to his mind. Of what those blond dyed strands must have looked like sticking up unruly in the morning, enough so that they were hidden by the black beanie not only because of the morning cold. Or the way those menacing eyes would have looked cloudy from sleep, limbs heavy and reactions dazed. It was adorable and causing his heart to squeeze tight in pain.  
He merely pushed it aside with a little smile, claiming it to be a surprise as they kept walking down the street. In a quiet part of the city like this one, the time seemed nearly still, not many people up at such ungodly time and if he allowed himself to be a bit more deluded, he might even be able to imagine traces of the morning clouding the ground. It wasn’t actually there again.  
Only after some walking it seemed more lively, several vans with flower shop logos and names printed onto their sides or hoods, some forlorn cars, and merely a glance aside and from the corner of his eyes told him that the other had experienced some sort of revelation he indulged for only some moments. “My aunt works as a florist,” he started, and that she hadn’t joint the family business went unsaid. “She owns a small chain though. The freshest flowers are available in the morning, also the greatest variety. So, as long as you find some, she agreed to making them a bouquet for your confession. If taken care of properly, they’ll last the days remaining, or she can just recreate it for you, too.”  
“Zhengzheng,” he heard Yanjun call out, that certain tone usually used on underclassmen misbehaving, a bit reprimanding, a bit of a tale of how this would be too much. He might just be overdoing it with his offer and it had him smiling painedly, lips against the plastic lid of his cup because he didn’t want it to be seen, not when it would be giving away ever too much. “That’s-”  
“Let’s go, come one,” he disturbed without shame, skipping the remaining steps to the entrance of the seemingly giant hall, his aunt’s name a ticket granting admission and from there it were just a few more feet into seemingly breaching an invisible wall, the oppressing scent of flowers not welcoming them slowly. Nothing like a mother’s gentle embrace, it was just there from one pace to the other along with the incredible sight of color upon color, interweaved by humans at time.  
Frankly speaking, it was overwhelming, in a number of waves, the perfume lingering in the air, the visual overload, the amount of species to choose from, and it seemed to only get worse by the moment as they continued walking.  
“Usually shop owners or freelancers come here. Order bigger amounts from the greenhouses to be delivered or just buy greater mass directly. Kind of like a showcase.” The explanation was mumbled against his coffee before taking a sip, only to realize it didn’t taste nearly as good with his nose nearly clogged from the smells alone. Whoever would invent floral coffee would definitely be crazy. Or a genius, if succeeding in making it work out.  
That their conversations seemed to trickle along only was hopefully only owed to the time, or the situation at hand, having to take in so much at once that by the time they had rounded the warehouse, it didn’t even seem uncomfortable anymore. Could as well have been only his own awkwardness making it seem so, though. Somehow they had silently agreed upon a short break, taking a rest at a more open space that finally allowed them to ditch their empty cups into a trashcan too, and maybe such place wasn’t ideal for talking but it started regardless with Yanjun asking, “Which ones did you like best?”  
“Me?” He repeated in surprise, staring at the older for a moment as he went through the flowers he had seen that had appealed to him most in his head, placing them to their rough shops in his messy memory. “There’s… a few. How about you?”  
Without yet giving a reply, the council president already picked up walking again, dimples showing slightly from what Zhengting could still see as he followed in surprise, still waiting for an explanation to come. “Let’s get yours then,” the older elaborated, shoulders circling in a means of probably wanting to loosen them up a bit, before adding, “You have good taste usually. It should look pretty.”  
Words laid on the tip of his tongue about how this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, that this was about Yanjun creating a bouquet of his own to give the one he liked. But there was also a flush on his cheeks because of those words he had just heard, that his decision would be the one to go with, that his opinion was valued that much. The latter reasoning succeeded, was the motivation behind his following behind and pointing out the flowers that had jumped his eye when first passing by, until a nice amount of was within golden hands and they stood outside again.  
His heart still fluttered, from what had taken place within the last hour or so, and beneath the winter’s sun cold light he felt his heart growing bigger inside the cage of his ribs, especially whenever his eyes fell down onto the group of greens and whites and purples. It demanded force to tear his sight away to instead focus on his phone, looking for the number of a taxi service to demand a car picking them up despite his companion’s exaggeration about how this would be too much just again. The excuse of the flowers needing freshness seemed to work wonders in silencing though, for the time of entering the car to leaving at his aunt’s workplace and entering the shop.  
Under her watchful eyes and careful wrapping, conversation picked up again, little questions about all this and that, about the small succulents aligned on shelves or the light bulb greenhouses she had built and hung up on her own, maybe those being the most fascinating matter. That within such tightness a beautiful bit of nature could grow was impressive, the water and earth never evaporating, the plant sufficing on its own while looking so utterly and tinily adorable. They took his attention as he walked around the isles, lowered from the ceiling every here and there, the fascination with the art of arranging a bouquet having faded away with the years while undoubtedly being still fresh within Yanjun’s heart.  
It was charming, he decided, as he glimpsed over every now and then, those bright eyes sparkling with juvenile interest while watching her nimble digits move around the flower stems, aligning their places and the green leaves artificially placed in between, until it could all be laced with a band and coated with wrapping. Around the time lilac and rosy tissue paper was drawn around it, the one he had tried to watch as inconspicuous as possible spoke up again, “What does it signal? This bouquet, I mean.”  
It was followed by a melodious but careful hum from her side before she disappeared for a moment, probably to get one of her extensive books about flower language from her office, to answer his question properly. An action more considerate than around the everyday customer, but it all was, this whole circumstance, starting from when Zhengting had asked her for help in first place. Something he didn’t regret, not when he could watch the older in a surrounding looking more like a floral paradise than a shop, the main one, he knew, where his aunt focused more on advising than actually selling, creating bouquets for brides and weddings or special days and beloved ones. It was pretty, with greens wrapping around white pillars or steel poles, flowery perfume light despite the many ones kept around in their vases rather than buckets, and those she hadn’t in stock she could always look up in her books.  
One of which was now placed on the counter, heavy and thick and with her darting the pages while he still tried to not get caught staring. Except he did, their eyes meeting and heat covering the tips of his ears, just for them to be interrupted by her soft words. “Flowers often hold several meanings so in this combination… The larkspur, in this color, stands for first love and disposition. The snowdrops are a bit unconventional but they represent hope, since those usually bloom when winter transcends into spring so it’s quite beautiful. The anemone though, is a bit more complicated. Take it as anticipation, in this combination, or forsaken love, forsaken affection. Did our little Zhengie choose them?”  
Her smile was disarming, bright and unguarded, and despite it not being meant meanly, it made him feel caught like a child with its hand in the cookie jar. To Yanjun it must have been a similar situation, with a shy but beautiful smile on this even more beautiful face.  
“He always chose the ones with many blossoms close by. The first time he came to me, he mixed larkspur with foxgloves and hydrangeas. I think it was one of the prettiest arrangements I had ever been allowed to make,” she rambled on, always on and on, about flowers and anecdotes of his childhood and it almost had him wanting to just grab his schoolmate and disappear. Almost, because it was embarrassing and making his cheeks ruddy but at the same time, the open and unhidden interest in those eyes he loved to watch so much was keeping him from doing just that.  
So maybe having all his shameful sides exposed wasn’t what he had wanted for this day to turn out as, but being allowed to see an expression like this, he thought it was just bearable enough. Even if it meant leaving the shop only three hours and two cans of shared tea later, the smile and words of gratitude, they warmed his insides better than any hot beverage ever could.

It seemed like a rule applied to a roller coaster, how to every high there had to be a low, the speeding up before a spiral to prevent getting stuck, like the rebound of bungee jumping, hitting the farthest point before the rope was pulling one back. It was the kind of feeling he had as he had lain in bed at night and woken up in the morning, feeling antsy and queasy, because he had fallen too hard too fast and now it was clawing at his heart.  
Spending time with Yanjun was wonderful, great, seeing the older outside the school setting, away from books and uniforms, style so casual but fitting, it had put his heart into a squeeze throughout the whole of his afternoon after parting with flowers in their destined hands. Anxieties growing as he kept thinking, of a bouquet equally chosen by him as by the one who’s meant to hand it over, of childhood memories and easy smiles, of his own endearment and enchanted state while merely getting closer to the day his heart would break and shatter into pieces. Superstition was also gnawing at his thoughts, considerations of whether the result of that planned confession would be jinxed since those flowers had been chosen by him were accompanied by the weighting of whether he should look forward to it or fear it. Doing the former would be mean, cruel, but it meant having a chance, and the latter simply stood for what he had dreaded since days now, the unavoidable finish to a love that shouldn’t be.  
Just that, calling it love already, was making him snort into his pillow, fabric blocking his breathing and suffocating seemed just so sweet, to not inhale any more oxygen and therefore be able to avoid this one day he didn’t want to come. On the other hand, he was filled with curiosity, intrigue, about who would be the lucky one to end up receiving a letter and a bouquet and sincere words of infatuation. No matter how short-lived it might be.  
A deduction was too hard to make, the want to figure out just who it was by collecting hint after hint but those didn’t come, not anymore, because choosing flowers wasn’t exactly helpful in finding out what kind of person fit Yanjun’s type, it was a riddle, a wonder, and it had his mind occupied. Throughout the remains of his weekend that turned into unfinished study sessions and stubbed toes, spilled drinks and forgetting to washing shampoo out of his hair before leaving the shower. Equaled cuts on his fingers from when he helped cooking and burnt vegetables in their pan had his father not saved them. Meant waking up on a school day with shadows only being deeper and caffeine failing to save his energy levels.  
There was some calculation behind a rebound, it had to be expected when helping one’s crush in confessing to someone else despite craving nothing more than affection and attention from them on his own, but there was cruelty in those words he heard standing in front of his locker and hidden behind the small door.  
“Did you hear? Yanjun has requested to leave the dorm earlier than scheduled this year,” a girl said in this weird mixture of low and chirpy that only gossip could entail. “Someone heard his application to some universities had already been approved even without the Gaokao because of his academic records. A university in Taiwan and one foreign one even offered a scholarship.”  
“No way,” another girl, probably the first one’s friend, released in disbelief, but he didn’t find it in him to listen in any longer. Not when he had heard the worst already. Just a few words, but they had emptied his mind and thrown it into blankness, had his fingers curling tight around the thin metal of the door until his knuckles contrasted white. Those words, the cruelty within them, they had been a kick to the stomach of a dog on the ground and if only he had the energy to, he might as well have whined with the idea.  
He had been aware of the possibility of their council president leaving the country after this year, it wasn’t unheard of, even Zhangjing had considered going back to Malaysia since high school would be finished soon and homesickness was a collateral illness. Just… no one had brought it up for certain so far, no one had mentioned leaving or staying nor universities of desire or leaving dorms. In a way, it held a sense of betrayal, to hear rumors about it without yet having heard the truth and even despite spending half a day together, drowned in coffee and tea and floral perfume.  
Betrayal, heartache, they might as well be his attendant for the time being, because the unchangeable result of it all was this little bloody organ hurting and spasming and sending jolts of pain down his spine. They also aided in blurring out his surroundings to the point he didn’t realize the hallways emptying nor the bells ringing, there was only his locker and him and these words echoing through his mind. As if Yanjun having a crush on someone else hadn’t been enough, as if having to watch and aid that confession hadn’t been sufficient, he might just have his fear of being left alone come real and there was nothing he could do but try to use the future to mend the remains of a forsaken and unrequited love.  
Hazy state too distracting, he was only pulled out with a hand on his shoulder and as he was still looking at the tiny lady of a literature teacher with doe eyes, he slowly came to the realization that, albeit he couldn’t boycott that confession, at least he should attend his class. Muttering apologies and gratitude, he only grabbed his books (the wrong ones) and left for the assigned room, thoughts still up in the clouds but feet on the ground and with the buzzing of a message shaking the pocket of his pants. Kind of he anticipated who it was from, a squelching feeling of his guts not to be disappointed as he looked at the name he loved to the point it surely did him worse than well and with a preview of words he didn’t even want to read when he was aware of their content all the more. 

He should consider it masochism, the way he had only just suffered a mental low in the morning and yet didn't cancel. They had planned to do something, it would be rude to dismiss it on short notice, not to mention it wasn't to his liking either. Spending time with someone he couldn't have also shouldn't be considered as something he enjoyed and yet he did it, a great part of his conscious saying it was because he bad already bought all ingredients needed but an even bigger part yelled at him for being stupid. Somehow he had a feeling the one calling him dumb was right, he was an idiot, an idiot in love, and that didn't make it better by no means.  
Additionally it should be considered masochism to sit in school after his classes had already ended, lounging around some benches and while he enjoyed the library for positively influencing his studious behavior, said place wasn't open for the day and so he had needed to resort to some empty classroom. It looked solemn and sober, dull thanks to the cloudy weather outside and generally just too dreary to possibly bring up his mood the slightest bit, on the opposite, it only seemed to bring it down even further.  
Despite usually enjoying it, not even his books on literature could bring him any relief, but the bell announcing the end of class most definitely did. It was a cue, to pack up his studies and take his jacket so he could make his way to the big entrance hall, already met with a familiar sight of a waiting figure. A small smile was trained onto his face within seconds as he approached that broad back, tapping his finger against the slender arm as announcement of his arrival and it only took them the slightest bit of small talk to mask their readiness to leave.  
Their drive in the bus was something he should enjoy, sitting next to each other in silence as the scenery changed, from the familiar neighborhood of their school into a more wealthy one, it was a route so known to him but new to his companion. He had to give it to Yanjun, he didn’t seem too uncomfortable in this surrounding, neither entirely at home. It was a painful reminder of how different they were, that maybe they attended the same school but while his parents could easily afford it, the older was attending on a scholarship. That fact alone might have already influenced his vogue amongst the students, to know that their council president was such a hardworking student in fact.  
Another half an hour or such passed until Zhengting signed for them to get out, silently leading the way until they arrived at his gates where he could punch in the code to open the metal door. With slight curiosity he passed a glance to his guest, still not uncomfortable but not fitting this flair of his home, not when there was a specific something about people like Zhengting himself or Ziyi or Justin or most of his other friends too that Yanjun seemed to lack, this ease of getting to walk around without any worries ever or at all.  
The front door was opened with ease, it was never looked while the sun was up, a familial habit that they had all kept, and it was the same relaxation with which he entered and took off his outerwear. Accompanied by little instructions of where all could be placed, by little explanations of the rooms they passed, until they arrived at the kitchen down the hall.  
“You have a nice home,” Yanjun eventually said, hand already on one of the stools and it took but a small smile to receive permission on sitting down. “It seems well lived in.”  
He didn’t manage to react immediately, not when he was well aware of how it meant opening up a lot more, this showing the house he had grown up in to the other. With pictures of small him having grown up, with the art his mother loved hung up, the grocery list his dad had pasted onto the fridge, and his older sister’s study material spread all over the kitchen table. Something about taking it all in better with the smell of coffee surrounding her, omnipresent in this room.  
“It’s chaotic,” he said a bit apologetically as he stirred around the cupboards, pulling out a box of coffee he swayed questioningly and that was soon to be turned into a drink. “But we’ll be alone for another while so we should get started soon, if that’s okay with you?” Before his mother would question why they were making chocolates or his father would give his own suggestions or his sister started to make fun of him again.  
The reply to come was introduced by a low considering hum, then a blinding smile that came with these dimples that shouldn’t be legal in lieu of the near heart attack they gave him. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea. Did you make chocolates before already?”  
If counting the one time this weekend… “Yeah,” he replied without hesitance. He was certain it was pathetic, how much effort he put into preparing his own crushing for a confession to someone else entirely. Even more so when he didn’t even like chocolate of his own. “It’s more heartfelt than buying them. Likewise if they don’t end up too perfect or as pretty as ready made ones, you made them with effort. There is more consideration in making them on your own than purchasing them so whoever neglects that, truly is an idiot for real.”  
As if those words had been a relief of all burdens to exist, that blinding smile returned, and with it, the painful squeezing of that useless organ pumping blood. The coffee machine was his savior and so was the process of making chocolates that followed, the meticulous step by step as instructed by the paper he had taped to a cupboard, including the keeping a perfect temperature on the molten chocolate or filling the mold of heart and flower shaped trays perfectly.  
The work wasn’t quite tiring per se, but the always needing to take care quite so was, creating all the fillings and not spilling any of it at all and thus, the exhaustion at the end of the day as they had finished closing the chocolates and settled down with some tea. Talking came slow, about their mishaps and spilling during the sweets making, about school and their friends, the day being long took a toll on them and it was evident in their speech. But as Zhengting closed his fingers around the steaming mug, he still thought it was one of the most beautiful days he had ever spent. Despite the dawning anticipation of his own heartbreak sitting heavy in his stomach, debris of dark feelings that couldn’t reach his eyes.

Despite his promise of delivering their commonly made chocolates, he didn’t attend school the day after, he just passed them to Justin at the bus station in the morning and returned home. Then the day after, it was the same, blaming some sickness and feigning ignorance to all his kids commenting on how disappointed people around school seemed to be, dreading not being able to confess, rumors taking over, and Linkai cursing about his amassed work.  
It made his heart warm, to know they all cared so much about him despite Minghao’s blunt words in their private chat, about how there was no one to blame but Zhengting himself, that such result had been all too obvious and he knew, it didn’t stop him from wallowing in self-pity, though.  
It was that same way that Valentine’s passed and the weekend approached, and it wasn’t until the first day off school that he decided it was time to leave his home, merely to pick up the school materials Ziyi had collected for him throughout the days. The way was nothing but short, take a few turns and he had already arrived at the luxurious apartment complex, beknown to the guard it was an easy entry and equally so to reach the right door.  
Merely a handful minutes later he was already settled on the overly decorated bed, satin sheets smooth beneath his fingers as he dropped into the throw pillows. By now, this was like a home away from home with all the time he spent about, studying together or just lazing around watching movies, more often than not, he felt, with the addition of his kids for the latter.  
“Here are your notes,” Ziyi interrupted the silence that was him hugging a pillow closely to his chest, the younger pointing at a folder that was stuffed with all kinds of papers, thick with the amount of. Then that same pale hand passed on to a flowery box placed next to it, lid uneven from where it was placed on top. “And that’s your Valentine’s presents. Sorted by chocolates and letters and a lot of disappointed sighs for not getting to give them to you in person.”  
“Was sick,” he muttered into the overpriced fabric, still decorated in the reds and golds of the New Year’s as if that would aid in fending off bad luck still. Admittedly, the stitching of a piglet on the central one was quite adorable.  
Blame it on his classmate to be such a gentle person, deserving of being called a good older brother if not a mom friend as well, but it made for why he didn’t feel uncomfortable even as it was someone younger ruffling up his hair and patting his back. “Justin already told me. It must have been serious for you to not go to school. Are you at least feeling better now?”  
No, no, he definitely didn’t, he still felt sore from the inside out and since he had yet to hear about the result of Yanjun’s confession, there was an underlying queasiness to his situation. The whole feeling antsy didn’t just disappear because of this very specific day having passed alone. “Somewhat… Is there a new movie to watch?”  
“There always is,” his host said generously, already on the way up to get some snacks or whatever but well interrupted by the doorbell, followed by an excited Xukun bursting into the room only seconds later. There was no holding the youngest in approaching the bed and dropping onto it, half his weight on Zhengting who released a low grunt in response and the room’s owner just smiling, “Hello to you too, Kunkun.”  
“Your bed is so comfortable, why is Zhengzheng so bony,” their underclassman complained while already rolling off the latter, onto his back and staring at the ceiling in contemplation. “He didn’t confess. The rumors of it had already spread around and everyone was expecting it but… nothing.”  
Now he wasn’t certain how to feel anymore. At least, if Yanjun had confessed and there had been a rejection, it was something obvious, and if there was a new couple now, then he would have gotten to deal with it somehow. But now, he was just stuck in the same spot as before, he didn’t know who his own crush was in love with and how it would end. It was unsettling.  
As if they both could sense his distress, one was patting his leg in reassurance while the other already got up to pick snacks from the kitchen. It was comfortable, soothing in a certain way that spoke of family and home and ease. Especially when they had all settled in bed, bowls of snacks placed around their legs while whatever movie was running on the screen, he was quite certain Ziyi had just randomized whatever on Netflix. In the end, it wasn’t even about the movie, it was about spending time with each other and relaxing into the afternoon.  
Until… “What are you planning to do next?” Xukun asked, nibbling on an Italian bread stick carefully, eyes not parting from the colorful pictures displayed but it didn’t mar the concern in his voice nor the gentleness of his tone.  
It took some time for him to notice what this was about, but as it made click, he couldn’t help the silent whine creeping up his throat. “Nothing?” He really didn’t know, wasn’t even certain he could think much of it after this emotional roller coaster he was still busy digesting. Or maybe he had just hit the low of lows.  
The gaze the two next to him exchanged seemed to carry some sense of meaningfulness, like a hidden message, but he didn’t have it in him to question that. Not when onion rings were that much more appealing and the movie bore way less secret words in it. 

Like the cake batter he was mixing in his voluntary culinary class, he felt like his emotions were roughly the same. It was a mix of too much and yet he couldn’t help but also feel somewhat proud of the result, with all his heartache and one-sided love and bone crushing anticipation for the day he’d hear of Yanjun’s new relationship state, he had made it his task of nearly two weeks to avoid the older in school. Clearly there was no running away from council tasks but lunch breaks were spent in the middle school’s cafeteria (because no one even bothered complaining) and all those spots he knew might result in a run in were avoided.  
Which didn’t mean he couldn’t catch the president’s confused and somewhat irritated gaze during meetings, or how Ziyi and Xukun insisted he do something about it, or Zhangjing suddenly chewing his snacks extra loud to fill the silence. But all this avoiding such situations had lead to him picking up extra classes or diving into his studies just so he could avoid his own thoughts. Even his family time had increased, though, that too had been accompanied by questioning gazes from his parents for suddenly helping with housework again.  
Still mindlessly whipping the batter around the bowl he was holding, he didn’t really pay much attention to his surroundings. Until someone tapped his shoulder, that was. A more than just embarrassing screech escaped his lips and the whisk flew up into the air along with it, maybe even his legs would have given out if not for the hands supporting his hips and it had him nearly cursing for people were aware of his condition. That mostly because during his first year’s Halloween experience he had screamed along the whole ghost trail and suffered palpitation bad enough he had feared needing to go to the hospital.  
It took him a few seconds to calm down and turn his head to see the culprit, jerking and yelping a second time when realizing it was the one he had been avoiding for weeks who was mere inches away from him. He wasn’t spared another moment, though, as the older just looked at him sternly and declared, “We need to talk, Zhengting.”  
Which was also how he found himself sitting in the same coffee shop of their first meet up half an hour later, steaming mug of coffee between his hands and just looking at the way cocoa was breaking through the froth. There was no urge to talk, rather he wanted to grab his things and go away for how his heart was squeezing bittersweetly, reminded of that other day and how much more comfortable he had been. Not to mention, after staying away for so long, the mere fact their knees were nearly touching beneath the table plate was making him queasy.  
All the ease that had been there the last time, the silent joy of just being allowed to watch the older, it was gone now, as he was merely waiting for his final judgement, questions toppling over in his head. Was this about that still missing confession? About his avoidance? The upcoming graduation? He couldn’t do much than play piano on his mug to release his nervousness.  
There were giggles to his side, sound somewhat familiar and as he looked aside, there were those girls again, the friends of the one who had bought him cookies before. Just another painful reminder on the list, he figured. And this time, too, she seemed to notice him, sending a shy wave over, before her eyes darted over to the counter and back to him. It was easy to guess what she considered doing, so all he did was give her a short smile, about to nod his head or just sign her thank you which he never got to do, though.  
Not when suddenly a warm palm was covering his hand circling the mug, fingertips pressing into his skin demanding his attention he was quick to give. Startled gaze focusing onto his opposite he was about to pull back his limb, just to be able to escape those sparks and flashes shooting up his arm, only to find his wrist encircled with golden fingers contrasting so starkly with his own pale skin.  
“Don’t do this in front of me, Zhengting, don’t flirt around in front of me,” the older demanded, eyes dark and serious and making him all kinds of things, mostly unable to move from his spot thanks to how captivating they were. “You’ll only make me angry.”  
“Why…?” He started but it was a sentence he wouldn’t be able to finish even if he attempted to, he decided, and he didn’t enjoy that all his usual confidence was, more or less, thrown out of the window and ditched by the street. It made him feel awfully vulnerable, the way Yanjun could just strip him off his usual assurance and leave him bare, exposed in front of prying eyes. Just another reason for why he had tried to stay out of his reach for all that while.  
“I never got to confess.” The abrupt change of topic had him tensing up, freezing for all of a moment and then trying to yank his hand free once again. Not that it did much to him, because instead of release he was pulled forth a bit, his hand forced palm up as if to receive a present. He did get one. The very bag of chocolates he had wrapped at night, with the baby blue bow tied to the staple he had used to keep it closed. “I know you already like one but…”  
There were chocolates in his hand. Chocolate he didn’t like. Chocolate they had prepared for that confession. Chocolate he was forced to take into his hand as his fingers got wrapped around it carefully. Chocolate that had never been handed over. Chocolate that was, still, within his hand.  
“...I’m graduating soon and before I leave, I wanted to at least do this much. This is my last chance, after all.” Sweet words and that darned dimpled smile set a ton of butterflies free within his stomach but they died just as fast as they had come up.  
He felt dumb, utterly stupid, not because he actually was but rather because all he could utter was, “Huh?” The sensation was weird, this feeling of having the answer within reach but it was made of fog, wanting to reach it would merely lead to his hand driving through the moisture within the air and sensing nothing but humidity on his skin.  
“I like you,” the older repeated, saying it so straightforward and direct and with all the honesty possibly put into his words and yet again, he couldn’t offer much of an answer despite this idiotic sound to show his exhilaration. “You are my confession. I wanted to do this already weeks ago but then you just didn’t show up and avoided me and now… I can understand if you need some time to accept this, since there’s also someone you like, or if you want to continue avoiding me from now on since I didn’t even ask about your… preferences but-”  
“I can’t,” he interrupted and he wasn’t even certain whether he had only imagined the despair laced into his words or it was actually there, he couldn’t tell. Maybe he could, because even now, the reaction he received seemed to be of mixed signals that he wasn’t able to sort. Yet they compelled him to go on, “You said it yourself. You’re graduating soon and then you’ll leave and I don’t want this if it’s only for this limited time… Not if it’s limited…” The last repetition was uttered, whispered silently as he placed the see through bag down and finally pulled back his hand, placing it around his mug again and the porcelain slid further towards the edge of the wood.  
Silence fell upon them again, during which he was thrumming against his mug again, the noise of a ticking clock haunting his mind. Until he couldn’t bear it anymore and moved his chair back, fingers parting from the mug so he could reach for his bag instead. “I think it’s time I-”  
“I won’t leave!” Yanjun called out, silently, but still effective in making him stop in his movement as confusion laced his face. “I mean, I will leave but I wanted to apply to the city university with the Gaokao. Unless you want me to go, then I’ll probably have to think it over again.”  
This… To call it a headline in the newspaper that made up his thoughts would call for an understatement. There was no way to describe what he was feeling at this moment, confusion, most of all. For it was not a situation he had anticipated nor hoped for to happen. “You… do you happen to have a cigarette?”

Minutes later he was coughing loudly, the sound echoed through the backstreet and despite wanting to ignore it, he couldn’t help noticing that mocking gaze in the older’s eyes. So maybe smoking wasn’t a good idea, it scratched from the inside at his throat and the taste was outstandingly disgusting. “How do you do this? This is…”  
“Gross? Revolting?” The council president aided him, small smile on those plush lips and dimples hardly showing. “I guess you get used to it. Why did you do it?”  
“In movies they always do this when they have to think something over,” he pointed out, pout making its way to his lips without even noticing. After all, there was too much to think over, the suddenly not so one-sided feelings, the university situation, that he actually had a chance. He had a chance. He couldn’t even believe it, it was so much to take in suddenly. “But… the confession…”  
“To you,” the other replied with ease, which was impressive. On the other hand, it wasn’t so much. The first time he had confessed to someone, he had also been at ease, and it had not changed over time either. “I had hoped to find out what you liked most to then use it for you but you just served me all these ideas on a silver platter.”  
A revelation, it was just that. As to why Yanjun had tested the waters on the day of the letter, confessing about his orientation and where his preferences laid. Although acceptance on homosexuality and being crushed on by another man apparently were two different pairs of shoes. As to why all those flowers for the bouquet had been the ones he had chosen, it was a design made of his own wishes. As to why there had been so much motivation behind making those sweet treats. Except… “I don’t like chocolate.”  
“You…” There was irony to the situation, suggesting to make them for a confession that was actually meant for him, especially when he didn’t even like it. It was evident in those alluring eyes before it changed, some mischievous spark that had him take a step back. “Will you accept my confession if there’s a gift you actually like?”  
Actually, there should be a gift leftover, with the chocolates handed over and the flowers being a too uncertain option when their wilting was unpredictable, there was only the letter leftover. One that actually had him curious so he couldn’t help nodding his head, anticipating exactly that one as he nodded his head.  
So why was it that he found himself with his back against the wall and a lower arm braced next to his head just a moment later? His eyes had widened slightly and he couldn’t help the flinch when a warm palm pressed to his cheek, seconds ahead to lips pressing on the opposite. “I think I have fallen for you. So will you go out with me, Zhengting?”  
He didn’t reply, at least not verbally. Instead, he tilted his head aside and leaned in for a proper kiss, nothing but a chaste peck between two mouths, a slight graze of a tender movement but it had his heart fluttering nonetheless, or sparks shooting through his body thanks to the firework that had started within him. 

There was a way too well known sound of flipped pages coming from behind him on the bed, then a break and the utterly needed interruption to their silence, “So, what are your plans for White Day?”  
Slowly Zhengting turned around in his chair, glaring at Justin and Chengcheng draped over his bed as if it were their own or a cozy couch but definitely not his. The older of his two guests merely shrugged his shoulders in response to the silent threat, not disturbed by eyes shooting lasers as he said, “He confessed to you first. And you only got a few days left.”  
His lips parted in exasperation but, even if he had wanted to, he wasn’t able to utter a single word, partly because he had none at the ready and partly because just that moment someone decided to ring the doorbell, already sending flutters to his heart and breaking his face into a wide grin. There was no hesitation in his jumping out of his chair to rush out of his room and down the stairs, he wanted to be first at the door to open it and greet their guest.  
“You’re excited, foxglove,” a dimpled smile greeted him just ahead to the already anticipated peck on his cheek. The gift bag he was holding onto was something he couldn’t help but peek into for the time Yanjun was still busy undressing, catching sight of the sweets neatly wrapped inside and a scented candle. He didn’t get to the bottom of it because his hand was already slapped away from it. “No peeking, Zhengzheng. Those are for your family.”  
“And where’s mine?” He asked with a faked pout. Else it would be highly unfair, he was the boyfriend but if only his parents would receive presents, it might be highly unfair. There was no present per se for him, he figured, when a moment later he felt lips press against his, and he would have been entirely satisfied with an innocent version of, but the hand grabbing his neck was even better.  
And interrupted. “Ew,” came from behind them, startling him away from his newly declared boyfriend (he still wanted to swoon over that even days later). He was quick to turn on his feet and catch a glimpse of the two interrupting ones standing a bit higher up on the staircase to look down onto them.  
“You two - home,” he demanded, frowning lightly only to feel another round of backstabbing for the day when his mother arrived from the dining hall, a heart warming smile on her lips.  
“Don’t be so harsh on them, darling. Minghao and Chengcheng are family, they might as well join us for the night,” she said softly, victorious whooping coming from the staircase despite the alarm sirens going off in his mind, blaring red and blasting away.  
“Run while you can, Junnie,” he silently whispered, overly dramatic and with a heavy sigh but all he got in return was a low chuckle and a kiss to his cheek from behind, driving heat to the kissed spot and this little bloody organ alike. “Cheater, you… Let’s go then, shall we?”  
His boyfriend only hummed lowly, taking the gift bag from him again to finally deliver his greetings to his parents properly, a soothing scene, and he felt glad upon the warm welcome coming from his own blood. “Yanjun?” He called out after the formalities were done, waiting for the older to look at him. “What are your plans on White Day?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far - congrats! I think this was a rocky way towards the finish line and I think reading so is too? which is up to y'all to decide!  
> There was actually an option to delay this until White Day's but, hey, better be fast than punny, right?
> 
> For those who feel to shy to comment (although I love those!), there's still my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/dadting) or hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/zhengjunist). Also lowkey regarding this the perfect time to mention I would enjoy branching out so if anyone has suggestions? Hit me up!


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